


A Moment's Peace

by vulpeculavolans



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, One Shot, whose pov is this written from nobody knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 01:02:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14297349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpeculavolans/pseuds/vulpeculavolans
Summary: Peter and Juno learn how to rest every so often.





	A Moment's Peace

He doesn’t know when it became a ritual, really. Somewhere along the line, though, it did.

Once or twice a week, maybe after Juno had been researching some infinitely frustrating case or Peter had been planning a heist to the minutest of details, they’d sit down on the couch together, put on a record, and get to work.

When Juno first met Nureyev all that time ago, one of the first things he’d noticed were his nails. Long, red claws, but not like the kind Juno had seen on his more unpleasant aunts - these were clearly well cared for. In comparison, Juno’s bloodied stumps were… somewhat embarrassing. He’d been biting them since he was young, often down to the quick and beyond, leaving him with nails that looked more at home in the photos he received from crime scenes than anywhere else. When he and Nureyev started… well, when he and Nureyev happened, it was one of the first things he brought up. 

“Juno, dear, doesn’t that hurt?”

“Doesn’t what hurt?”

“Your nails. Whenever you come off a case, they’re shorter than they were before you started. Would you like me to take care of them?”

From there, it spiralled.

At first, it was just Juno. He’d sit down with Nureyev once or twice a week and he’d massage fragrant oils and creams into his hands, and it was… nice. Maybe a little weird, and he wasn’t used to his hands feeling as damn soft as they did, but still. Nice.

It was one night after a day of exhausting heist-planning that Juno started returning the favour. 

Nureyev had come over late, collapsed on Juno’s couch, and started twitching incessantly. His hands were intermittently running through his hair at a thousand miles an hour and tapping rapidly on the arm of Juno’s couch, his head still so full of heist plans that Juno could practically hear the cogs whirring. Juno stood up, collected the bottle of red nail polish Rita had left over the last time she’d visited. Sat back down next to Peter and took his hands as gently as he could. “I never claimed to be an artist, so don’t go expecting a Monet or anythin’.”

After that, he got pretty good at it. After a few months, he could do simple patterns, and a while after that, he could affix little gems and sparkles if Nureyev happened to be in the mood for it. (He almost always was.)

They started having their most intimate conversations, too, during those quiet moments. Conversations about their childhoods, old cases… the tomb. Their first “I love you”s, whispered over a bottle of Ruby Red.

He’s not sure how it became a ritual, but most days, he’s damn glad it did.

**Author's Note:**

> podcast tumblr: prettyjuno.tumblr.com  
> writing tumblr: eleonwrites.tumblr.com


End file.
